Tip Jar

Technical

Friday, February 09, 2007

10 More Things You Probably Don't Care if You Know

Last year I did a piece on "10 Things You Probably Don't Care if You Know," and I thought I'd do another one this year, seeing as there is rather a dearth of cooking happening in my house (do you really want to know about my 10th loaf of bread? More about my frozen dishwasher?) So, without further ado . . .

I have a bit of a pen obsession. Anyone at work will tell you I am very careful who gets to borrow a pen from me, even though I always have enough pens in my apron to provide one to each old lady who wants separate checks no matter how many there are at the table. I even keep a few un-Lisa worthy pens in my pocket, just for doling out to my lesser-prepared coworkers. I am very suspicious if ever I catch another server with my brand of pen, because, you see, there is only one pen for me: the Pilot G-2 clickable roller ball gel pen, preferably in the .05cm tip (they can be a challenge to find). Black is preferable, but occasionally I like to work in blue as well. The mini size (available only in the lesser, but bolder, .07cm tip), work perfectly with my Moleskin reporter's notebook, they clip on and are just right. I can only feel comfortable if I have about 30 G2s in the house/handbag/apron/desk at a time. I must have one within reach at all times.

I loathe the Food Network. Loathe, loathe loathe. It fills me with rage, just to see the logo flashing on the screen. I used to really dislike Mario Batali, with his sausagey fingers and his creepy little pig eyes. His mispronunciations and misinformation are a source of much derision here at Chez Widow. Husband and I get a kick out of watching him just to point out everything he says that isn't factual. It's a hoot. These days, I can tolerate Mario because in truth, much of his food is appealing. Mario was the Food Network's last remaining bastion of hope. And soon he'll be gone, too. Rachel Ray and Giada Lollipop head (ever notice how her eyes bulge whenever she's about to take a bite of something at the end of the show? That's the only thing she's going to eat all week) only have to show up on the screen for me to start going into raging fits of profanity. Stop smiling so hard - it's creepy, okay?

Left to my own devices, I will eat nothing but carbs. I could eat potatoes covered in fried rice with gravy made from egg noodles. And still have some bread on the side. There is nothing I love more than a carb covered in salt. The pure beauty of a simple, cold, boiled potato dusted with salt is an amazing thing. Don't even get me started on potatoes poached in duck fat. Or noodles tossed in schmaltz. Or foie gras dirty rice.

I'm actually a little bossy. I've tried to be better at this since I made a boy cry at work last year when he refused to learn how to properly clean the cappuccino machine (I don't like lazy workers - sue me). Recently, when we hired a new boy, I said "Hi, I'm Lisa. Sometimes I make people cry. Even boys. You don't look like the sort who would cry, now do you? DO YOU??" This one hasn't cried. Maybe I am getting better.

There aren't many things I compulsively shove into my mouth with abandon. I prefer to remain slightly more civilized. That being said, I could eat the skin from an entire roasted chicken standing at the oven, as soon as it's cool enough for my heat-resistant little fingers to pry into. Fortunately for me, Husband can't stand chicken skin and never complains when his plate arrives at the table, chicken perfectly skinless. He's also nice enough to eat the white meat, which I don't care for. I will never understand why everyone loves white meat so much; it's almost always dry, pasty, and tasteless. I am always the only one at Thanksgiving who will opt for the turkey leg, with pleasure.

I love crime television, and I will watch almost anything, no matter how terrible. It's only been recently that I've finally given up on CSI:Miami; I just couldn't groan through anymore over-acted melodrama. From the good, high days of Lenny Briscoe Law & Order to the low, low Criminal Minds (I can't help it, I'm in love with that Matthew Gray Gubler), I love it all. I also love the X Files. I was informed at an early age from my classmates that I was a nerd and I have never looked back.

No matter how old I get and how much I know I should be eating my whole grains, I still like white bread better than whole wheat. Except the wheat bread with sunflower seeds in from the Winds. I could eat that bread every day.

I drink more beer than wine. This used to scandalize Husband's regulars when he worked at the Bar. How could I be married to such a wine guy and be caught dead with light beer? Well, as any wine person will tell you (any honest one, anyway), the best part of a wine tasting is the beer at the end. It's refreshing. Furthermore, it's cheap. One can't always be lounging about with $18 glasses of pinot. Well, not this one, anyway.

It is impossible for me to drive past a field of cows and not shout "MOO!"

I cannot convert to digital technology to save my life. Husband gave me his PDA when he quit being a manager and I played solitaire on it for a few days before handing it back over. I tried to switch from a paper calender to the Google calender and missed a deadline. It just doesn't work. I must have a notebook full of lists of things to do along with a paper calender with the dates they must be done. I can't be the only one, because so far it's never been difficult for me to purchase a paper calender at Staples.

Comments

10 More Things You Probably Don't Care if You Know

Last year I did a piece on "10 Things You Probably Don't Care if You Know," and I thought I'd do another one this year, seeing as there is rather a dearth of cooking happening in my house (do you really want to know about my 10th loaf of bread? More about my frozen dishwasher?) So, without further ado . . .

I have a bit of a pen obsession. Anyone at work will tell you I am very careful who gets to borrow a pen from me, even though I always have enough pens in my apron to provide one to each old lady who wants separate checks no matter how many there are at the table. I even keep a few un-Lisa worthy pens in my pocket, just for doling out to my lesser-prepared coworkers. I am very suspicious if ever I catch another server with my brand of pen, because, you see, there is only one pen for me: the Pilot G-2 clickable roller ball gel pen, preferably in the .05cm tip (they can be a challenge to find). Black is preferable, but occasionally I like to work in blue as well. The mini size (available only in the lesser, but bolder, .07cm tip), work perfectly with my Moleskin reporter's notebook, they clip on and are just right. I can only feel comfortable if I have about 30 G2s in the house/handbag/apron/desk at a time. I must have one within reach at all times.

I loathe the Food Network. Loathe, loathe loathe. It fills me with rage, just to see the logo flashing on the screen. I used to really dislike Mario Batali, with his sausagey fingers and his creepy little pig eyes. His mispronunciations and misinformation are a source of much derision here at Chez Widow. Husband and I get a kick out of watching him just to point out everything he says that isn't factual. It's a hoot. These days, I can tolerate Mario because in truth, much of his food is appealing. Mario was the Food Network's last remaining bastion of hope. And soon he'll be gone, too. Rachel Ray and Giada Lollipop head (ever notice how her eyes bulge whenever she's about to take a bite of something at the end of the show? That's the only thing she's going to eat all week) only have to show up on the screen for me to start going into raging fits of profanity. Stop smiling so hard - it's creepy, okay?

Left to my own devices, I will eat nothing but carbs. I could eat potatoes covered in fried rice with gravy made from egg noodles. And still have some bread on the side. There is nothing I love more than a carb covered in salt. The pure beauty of a simple, cold, boiled potato dusted with salt is an amazing thing. Don't even get me started on potatoes poached in duck fat. Or noodles tossed in schmaltz. Or foie gras dirty rice.

I'm actually a little bossy. I've tried to be better at this since I made a boy cry at work last year when he refused to learn how to properly clean the cappuccino machine (I don't like lazy workers - sue me). Recently, when we hired a new boy, I said "Hi, I'm Lisa. Sometimes I make people cry. Even boys. You don't look like the sort who would cry, now do you? DO YOU??" This one hasn't cried. Maybe I am getting better.

There aren't many things I compulsively shove into my mouth with abandon. I prefer to remain slightly more civilized. That being said, I could eat the skin from an entire roasted chicken standing at the oven, as soon as it's cool enough for my heat-resistant little fingers to pry into. Fortunately for me, Husband can't stand chicken skin and never complains when his plate arrives at the table, chicken perfectly skinless. He's also nice enough to eat the white meat, which I don't care for. I will never understand why everyone loves white meat so much; it's almost always dry, pasty, and tasteless. I am always the only one at Thanksgiving who will opt for the turkey leg, with pleasure.

I love crime television, and I will watch almost anything, no matter how terrible. It's only been recently that I've finally given up on CSI:Miami; I just couldn't groan through anymore over-acted melodrama. From the good, high days of Lenny Briscoe Law & Order to the low, low Criminal Minds (I can't help it, I'm in love with that Matthew Gray Gubler), I love it all. I also love the X Files. I was informed at an early age from my classmates that I was a nerd and I have never looked back.

No matter how old I get and how much I know I should be eating my whole grains, I still like white bread better than whole wheat. Except the wheat bread with sunflower seeds in from the Winds. I could eat that bread every day.

I drink more beer than wine. This used to scandalize Husband's regulars when he worked at the Bar. How could I be married to such a wine guy and be caught dead with light beer? Well, as any wine person will tell you (any honest one, anyway), the best part of a wine tasting is the beer at the end. It's refreshing. Furthermore, it's cheap. One can't always be lounging about with $18 glasses of pinot. Well, not this one, anyway.

It is impossible for me to drive past a field of cows and not shout "MOO!"

I cannot convert to digital technology to save my life. Husband gave me his PDA when he quit being a manager and I played solitaire on it for a few days before handing it back over. I tried to switch from a paper calender to the Google calender and missed a deadline. It just doesn't work. I must have a notebook full of lists of things to do along with a paper calender with the dates they must be done. I can't be the only one, because so far it's never been difficult for me to purchase a paper calender at Staples.